Senses
by xakemii
Summary: Hermione and Ron experiencing the five different senses at different times. Short drabbles that are around 500 words. - Complete.
1. Sight

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Author's Note: Hermione meets Ron and Harry. She also sees Hogwarts for the first time.

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_Sight_

The first time Hermione Granger laid her eyes on Ronald Weasley, he was saying a silly spell, that in truth was clearly not a spell, in hopes of turning his rat, Scabbers, yellow. She had rolled her eyes, disgusted at the stupid rhyme. Instead she turned to the boy beside him, not instantly recognizing the famous Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. In order to prove herself, she raised her wand, fixing the snap in Harry's glasses. Harry had recoiled, and Hermione flinched as she recognized him. She almost hit herself, how could she use a spell on Harry Potter? What if it had gone wrong? What if she had hexed him? Hermione shuddered, shaking the thoughts out of her head. Other then looking surprised, Harry seemed rather happy that she had fixed her glasses. Ron simply glared at her, not commenting. She flashed a smirk at him, before flouncing out of the compartment.

Ron had raised his eyebrows at Harry as soon as she had left. She was going to be the smart one; there was no doubt about that. He sighed awkwardly to himself. It was bad enough being compared to his older, smarter brothers, like Percy. But what if he was going to be compared to a girl? The thought was too overbearing, and he quickly erased it from his mind. Ron opened his mouth, starting a conversation with Harry.

Hermione looked back through the glass, seeing the boys laughing happily. She could imagine them sniggering about her, for fixing Harry's glasses. Why had she done that? Now they'd think she was a know-it-all. This was exactly what she had been trying to avoid when she first set foot on the Hogwarts Express. She had hated being teased at her old school, for knowing things, and had hoped to turn everything around at Hogwarts. _That_, she decided, _was a terrible start_.

Hermione gasped as the train stopped on at the station. A dull, slightly frightening body of water was in front of her, with several small boats docked nearby. She waited for the instruction, before hoping in the boat with three others that she had met on the train. Neville Longbottom, a small weedy boy, was one of them. He had been the reason why she had gone into Ron's and Harry's compartment, to ask whether either of them had seen his lost toad.

Hermione rolled her eyes, wondering how one could possibly manage to misplace a toad. She was stopped mid-roll, as she caught sight of the castle. Her fellow first-years gasped around her. Hogwarts was astonishing. It seemed almost dark and eerie. Though something about it made Hermione pleased, in a sense that Hogwarts felt safe. Somehow, despite the taunting looks of the castle in front of her, Hogwarts felt like home.


	2. Touch

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Author's Note: I didn't create the "hug" scene either, just borrowing it.

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_Touch_

When Buckbeak died. Ron Weasley was fairly certain that was the first time Hermione Granger had hugged him. He had been envisioning the axe coming down, murdering an innocent creature. A squeal from Buckbeak made his imaginings reality. Hermione had promptly gasped, tears slipping down her cheeks. The trio stood, looking down upon Hagrid's hut, a sickly feeling growing in their stomachs. She threw her arms around Ron's neck, letting her tears drench his shoulder. Ron was shocked, though pleased. Hesitantly, unsure of what to do, he let his arm wrap around her, rubbing her back comfortingly. Hermione was young and thought nothing of it.

Despite the situation, Ron was happy. He was hugging Hermione. She was his best friend; he shouldn't have felt that way. Best friends just don't think of each other like that. He often scolded himself for it. What would Harry think if he told him that he fancied Hermione? Hell, what would Hermione say? You weren't mean to fancy your friend. It just wasn't done. Ron quickly shook the dreadful thought of actually telling her from his mind, and instead focused on her hair, that was grazing across his cheek. Her brown hair was bushy, and he would have been lying if he had said he was comfortable, as occasionally a strand or two would escape into his mouth. Because of this, he gave the occasional cough, though he did try to hold it in, not wanting Hermione to let go.

Harry had patted Hermione's shoulder sadly too. He couldn't help the sinking feeling in his stomach telling him that Buckbeak's death was his fault. If only he wasn't on such bad terms with Malfoy. Then Malfoy wouldn't have wanted to show him up so badly. Harry stepped back for a moment, watching as his two friends held something that could be called on embrace. He felt like laughing. Ron looked so surprised; Harry didn't suppose he realized that his mouth was hanging wide open.

All too soon, Hermione pushed away from Ron, a firm and determined look forming on her face. She was furious with herself. What in the world had possessed her to hug him? Imagine if he got the wrong idea, hell would break loose. She had enjoyed herself though, once she saw through her tears. Hugging Ron had felt natural, perhaps more natural than it really should have. Hermione shook her head, trying to stop herself. She couldn't fall for Ronald Weasley. Remember the times he had teased her mercilessly? The times he had sent her to her dormitory crying herself to sleep. No, she couldn't like him, not as any more than a friend, at any rate. Hermione wondered if Ron had realized that his hand was still on her back. She didn't tell him, to be honest, she rather liked it. She turned her head slightly, and was reminded of Harry's presence. She caught the direction of his eyesight, which was directed at her back. She sighed inwardly, before removing herself from the hug she had enjoyed so much.


	3. Smell

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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_Smell_

Ron watched as Hermione stood from her seat, heading towards the front of the class. She had been the first to raise her hand, as per usual. Professor Slughorn had called upon her, and she happily moved forward, ready to name the numerous potions, no doubt flawlessly. He followed her the line of her eyes as she reached the final potion. She tensed slightly, taking in the scent.

"Amortentia," she muttered under her breath, gasping slightly. "Freshly mowed grass, new parchment and –" Hermione cut off suddenly, blushing slightly.

Ron bit his lip, trying to edge her on. Why was listing these things? What was the potion? He almost fainted as she uttered that it was a love potion, quietly under her breath. He quickly stored that away for future use, just in case. Grass and parchment. Parchment. _What does parchment smell like? _Ron wondered to himself.

He looked up, noticing Hermione still staring at the potion. Within moments, the potion had swept over the classroom, making everyone look slightly ditzy. Hermione. Her hair. Why did he smell Hermione? A look of recognition crossed his face, before he slapped his hand over his nose, pinching down hard. Harry caught his eye, giving him a strange look. Ron shrugged in reply, only lifting his fingers as Professor Slughorn twisted the cork back onto the small vial.

Ron sighed outwardly, relieved as Hermione sat back down in her seat. The lesson continued with nothing exciting happening. Why had he smelt Hermione? She was his best friend. Sure, he liked her, but only as a sister, right? He battled with his mind, trying to convince himself that his feelings remained as always.

"You okay, mate?" Harry hissed. Ron looked up, startled. He then hastily nodded, gathering his books in his arms. Harry pursed his lips, but kept quiet, and followed him out of the room. The two waited impatiently by the door, waiting for Hermione to emerge. Harry greeted her happily, and the three entered the Gryffindor common room together.

"What did you two smell?" Hermione asked suddenly, sitting down on the Gryffindor couch.

"Why do you want to know?" Ron retorted. He couldn't tell her that! It would ruin everything.

"Because you both know what I smelt," she replied defensively. "It was just a question," she added in a whisper.

Harry rolled his eyes, before plopping down beside Hermione. An argument was sure to break out now. He wished that Ron would just get a clue sometimes. He really did push her buttons, it was almost as if though he wanted to get her mad. Harry sighed, only half listening as the two argued loudly.

"Treacle tart and my broomstick handle," he interjected, hoping that the two would be quiet. "And something flowery. I think I smelt it at the Burrow one time."

Hermione flashed Harry a gleeful smile, before glaring at Ron.

"What was your third one then?" Ron asked, not wanting to be caught out. "You only mentioned two in class."

"Secret," Hermione mutter under her breath. "Well, since you aren't going to tell me, I'll be off," she finished huffily, stalking up the stairs that lead to her dormitory.

Harry smirked to himself, whilst Ron groaned, before sitting down. _Thank Merlin she didn't continue_, he thought to himself. _Would have been a disaster._


	4. Hearing

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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_Hearing_

Hermione paled as Harry told her the events of the night. Harry had gently explained to her that Ron had been poisoned. She felt like throwing up, or maybe fainting. She gasped quietly, reaching out to grip onto the chair beside her. Harry noticed her actions, and placed his hand on her shoulder, hoping to help steady her. Her breathing shallowed, but she hastily began to make her way towards the portrait hole. Harry followed her in silence, knowing where she was going.

The two friends stayed quiet, the only sounds around them being the bustling of students, as they walked around the corridors of Hogwarts. Hermione's pace quickened, and Harry struggled to keep up without having to jog beside her. He finally grabbed at her shoulder, forcing her to slow down. She protested, but stopped, realizing that she was only metres away from their destination.

She let out a small wail as her eyes landed on Ron's body. He was pale, almost looking lifeless. Hermione gave a strangled gasp, letting a flow of tears escape down her cheeks. She collapsed into the chair beside the bed, silently pleading that he would awaken.

Harry watched as Hermione cried. She was quiet, only making sounds when she sniffed, wiping her face with a tissue. He felt the uncanny need to comfort her. He knew how she felt. Worthless. Useless; like she could do nothing to help. He watched as she lifted her hand gingerly, intertwining her fingers with Ron's. Harry couldn't help to smile, and she looked up, catching his eyes.

"Oh my god!" A shriek filled the room, forcing Hermione to take back her hand, feeling stung. Lavender Brown pounced into the room, pointing an accusing finger at Hermione. "Why are you here?" she asked shrilly.

"I'm his best friend," Hermione replied, her voice only shaking slightly. "I have every right to be here."

"And I'm his girlfriend," Lavender retorted, almost sounding smug. Hermione rolled her eyes, lifting herself from the chair, and refusing to let Lavender see her wet eyes. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for his friend, silently hoping that she would remain in the room and that Lavender would leave. He hated watching Lavender as she flustered over Ron. To be honest, it made him sick.

"My-nee…" Ron murmured. Lavender gave a loud gasp of horror, her hands tightening on the bed railing. Hermione watched gleefully as her knuckles turned white, and smiled down at Ron. She was pleased that he had spoken her name. It made her ecstatic to hear him say her name in his sleep. She turned to Lavender, wide eyed as she realized that the girl was crying.

"Lavender, I'm –" Hermione broke off as Lavender gave a loud squeal, running out of the room. Hermione glanced after her, only breaking her eye contact when she felt Harry smirking at her. Her face softened, and she sat back down, letting her hands find Ron's once more. "Oh hush you," she muttered, turning back to Ron, praying that he would utter her name once more.


	5. Taste

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

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_Taste_

Upon seeing Harry again, Hermione was filled with an unusual sense of relief. The war wasn't over, not yet, but with Harry still alive, there was a chance. Not a very large one, mind you, but they stood a chance. She held the basilisk fangs gingerly, being careful not to prick herself with the deadly points.

" – house elves," Ron finished saying, casting a fleeting glance towards her. Hermione felt her mouth dropping in shock as she gazed up at him. She didn't hear the clattering of basilisk fangs as they dropped from her arms, and she launched herself at the red haired boy.

The fangs that Ron had been holding were soon on the floor, as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Without a moments thought, Hermione pressed her lips against his, a tight feeling of desperation clenching her stomach. She moved her lips hesitantly, wanting to memorize every inch of his lips before it was too late.

"Oi!" Harry was yelling at the two. They both ignored him for the moment, caught up in the moment. Feeling her light smile against his lips, Ron took the opportunity to press his tongue against her lip gently, eliciting a slight gasp from her. She didn't deny him access though, and his tongue entered her mouth with a grace that she didn't realize he possessed.

The need to memorize every inch of Ron hit Hermione once more, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, intertwining her fingers in his fiery locks, bringing him closer. The feeling was sensational. It was like drinking amortentia; intoxicating, addicting, and the need for more.

"There's a war going on here!" At the sound of Harry yelling once more, the two broke apart, looking almost sheepish.

"I know, mate," Ron grinned down at Hermione, his arms tightening around her waist. "So it's now or never, isn't it?"

Hermione stifled a giggle, licking her lips unconsciously. Even if she died in this war, she would die with a smile on her face, for the sweet taste on her lips would comfort her. In amidst the war, Hermione was happy.


End file.
